


Dreamflower's Dribs and Drabs

by Dreamflower



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anthology, Back to Middle-Earth Month, Challenges, Drabble Collection, Drabbles, Ficlet Collection, Hobbits, Limericks, Middle Earth, Other, Poetry, clerihews, collection, dribbles, fixed-length-ficlets, poetry forms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-18
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2018-02-21 14:25:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 8,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2471462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamflower/pseuds/Dreamflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of many of my drabbles, drabble sets, fixed-length-ficlets, and poetry from the past several years. They range in tone from fluff to angst, from comedy to drama. Many of them were written for various challenges or as gifts for friends. All of them are set in Tolkien's world and feature his characters and settings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Connections

**Author's Note:**

> First of all a word about definitions: I define a drabble as 100 words not counting the title or author's notes; multiples of a 100 words can be defined as double or triple drabbles. A drabble set consists of several related 100 word drabbles. Anything above a triple drabble can be a fixed-length-ficlet, as can a ficlet composed to a certain set length that is not a multiple of 100 (for example, a ficlet written to be exactly 111 words in honor of Bilbo's birthday).
> 
> I write several forms of poetry, including dribbles, which are a 55 word poem in which the first line has ten words, the second nine, and so on until the last line which has only one. Occasionally a double inverted dribble has a second verse beginning with one word and ending with ten.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo and Merry and little Pippin, and cousinly connections.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My very first drabble, written in 2004.

“He’s amazing, isn’t he, Frodo?” Merry watched as Pippin gamboled over the field with the kite he and Frodo had made for him. His delighted laughter floated back to them.

“Yes, he is.” Frodo and Merry sat beneath the Party Tree, enjoying the spring and the sight of their young cousin.

“You might think it foolish, Frodo, but you know, the first time I saw him I knew how he loved me, though he was only a tiny baby. He made me love him back.”

“Of course I don’t think it’s foolish, Merry. You did the same thing to me.”

 


	2. 25 Rethe, S.R. 1422: The Three Travelers Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A double inverted dribble, written for a hobbit_ficathon challenge. Sam, Merry and Pippin remember.

   
  
In the world of Men it’s called the New Reckoning:  
The day the whole world was saved from darkness;  
The day the Ring went into the Fire;  
The day the Enemy was cast down;  
The day the Shadow finally lost.  
Men celebrate the day with  
Pomp and songs and  
Feasts and ceremonies  
All to  
Remember.

Remember  
Frodo Baggins  
Friend and cousin,  
Who gave his all  
His heart and his self,  
And his spirit and his finger.  
Who lost himself to pain and guilt--  
The day the Ring went into the fire;  
The day the whole world was saved from darkness.  
In the Shire it’s just another fine day in spring.

 


	3. A Decent and Respectable Hobbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( Written in 2008 for the LOTR GenFic Community Father's Day Challenge)  
>  **Rating: G:**  
>  **Genre:** Drabble series (Fourteen drabbles)  
>  **Theme:** Father’s Day  
>  **Elements:** This quotation: _“But be that as it may, Mr. Frodo is as nice a young hobbit as you could wish to meet. Very much like Mr. Bilbo, and in more than looks. After all, his father was a Baggins. A decent and respectable hobbit was Mr. Drogo Baggins; there was never much to tell of him, till he was drowned.” (FotR, Bk. I, Ch. I, “A Long-Expected Party”)_  
>  **Summary:** Drogo Baggins, a decent, respectable hobbit; there was never much to tell of him…or was there?  
>  **Word Count:** 1,400

   
 **I.**

Bilbo looked down at his new pupil with a reassuring smile. Young Drogo smiled back at him, his expression one of frank and open curiousity, rather than the usual expression of sullen dread common to most young students.

“Your father tells me that you like to read?” Fosco had asked Bilbo only last week if he could begin to tutor Drogo: _“The lad’s full of questions, more than I’ve time for; I thought it would be as well to bring him to you.”_

The lad nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, sir!”

“Well, then, Drogo, I think that we shall get on famously!”

**II.**

“ ‘Morning, Master Drogo. Mr. Bilbo’s just come back from market. He’s up at t’ hole.” The gardener gestured in the direction of Bag End.

“Thank you, Master Holman. And who’s this?”

The old gardener grinned. “My first cousin Roper’s lad, Hamfast Gamgee, come to be my ‘prentice.”

Drogo bowed slightly. “Drogo Baggins at your service, Master Hamfast.”

Hamfast blushed, abashed. “Likewise, sir.”

“Well, Hamfast, if you listen to your cousin, you will be a fine gardener indeed!”

They watched him walk away.

“He seems a kindly sort, Cousin Holman.”

“He’s a decent and respectable young gentlehobbit, and no mistake.”

**III.**

Otho glared across the crowd at Drogo and Bilbo laughing together. Cousin Drogo always stayed on Cousin Bilbo’s good side. Otho had lasted only seven months before Bilbo told his father it was hopeless.

Otho hadn’t said so then, but he agreed. Cousin Bilbo was altogether too boring and respectable-- probably why he got on so well with boring and respectable Drogo.

He realized he wasn’t the only one staring. “Miss Bracegirdle, may I fetch you some punch?”

Lobelia flushed. “Yes, please, Mr. Baggins.”

“ _Sackville_ -Baggins.”

“Of course, how silly of me.”

But he noticed her eyes were still on Drogo.

**IV.**

The tween-aged lasses giggled as they watched the portly hobbit attempting to disembark from the ferry at Bucklebury. He looked miserable and fearful, and his complexion had a greenish cast to it.

“Who is he, Primula?” asked her Took cousin Primrose.

She grinned. “I believe he’s a Baggins connexion of Cousin Bilbo’s. Mum didn't notice, but I overheard her talking with Menegilda Goold. He’s trying to escape from some lass in Hobbiton who’s set her cap for him .”

Her other cousin, Peridot, grinned. “There’s no accounting for taste! He looks a bit boring.”

“I don’t know--he has kind eyes.”

**V.**

“Papa! They’re having Bilbo declared dead! Why?”

“Drogo, Bilbo’s been gone nearly a year! There’s no Head of the Family! The Bagginses can’t go on like this!”

“When he comes back there’ll be trouble!”

“Son, I know you were always fond of Bilbo. But he went without a word to any of the Family--with Dwarves and that pestiferous wizard! No word from him since! If he were alive he would have written!”

“It’s wrong! It’s just an excuse for Longo’s son Otho to get Bilbo’s property!”

“That’s as may be. What’s done is done.”

“You’ll see when he comes back!”

**VI.**

“I’m sorry Dinny. I’ve no interest whatsoever in your friend Bandigard North-took.” Primula took up her knitting, ignoring her brother’s indignant spluttering.

“Primmy! He’s a _North-took!_ There are dozens of lasses who’d give their eye-teeth to have him as their escort to Yule First Night!”

She shrugged. “Then let him ask one of them. I’ve other fish to fry.”

“If you are referring to Drogo Baggins, he’s far too old for you! He thinks you’re just a child. And he never pokes his nose out of the library when he is here anyway!”

She gave a small smile. “We’ll see.”

**VII.**

Dora noticed changes in her brother since he’d been visiting Buckland: easily distracted, less interested in the doings of family and friends. He often went to visit Bilbo--Bilbo might be the Head of the Family, but he was scarcely respectable anymore since his return from his… _journey_. She made a face as the word “adventure” intruded into her thoughts.

One thing could account for Drogo’s interest in the wilds of Buckland. She suspected a lass had caught her brother’s regard: a decent and respectable lass, she hoped.

“Brother, would you mind if I joined you in your visit to Buckland this time?”

**VIII.**

Primula looked at Drogo, as he proffered the small box. “Happy birthday.” Her thirty-second birthday would fall on the morrow, so she was receiving her gifts the day before, as was proper.

She opened it. Yellow hair ribbons! A traditional gift from a lad who wished to court a lass. She stared at him, speechless.

“I asked your father’s permission to court you, and he said yes. You’ll be of age in a year...” His expression was fearful. “I thought perhaps you might return my regard?”

He always did the respectable thing.

“Oh, Drogo! I thought you would never ask!”

**IX.**

Drogo held his wife close as she wept, though his own eyes were dry and burning. For the second time, they had lost a little one before its time. He knew how Primula’s heart ached, how her arms felt empty--for his own heart ached, his own arms yearned for a child of their own.

Would it ever happen? Or would they spend their married lives remembering an empty cradle, and little clothes made hopefully, and never used? Should they just quit hoping?

Somehow, though, he knew in his heart that one day they would have a little one to love.

**X.**

Bilbo guided three-year-old Frodo into the room, as his parents watched. The _faunt_ grinned, hands behind his back: face shiny; hair on head and feet damp; clothes askew; traces of mud on his breeches.

"For my birfday, Mama!" He thrust out his right hand: in it, a ragged bouquet, equal parts fall garden flowers and weeds. Primula took them, hugging her lad. Bilbo saw her tears of pride.

Frodo held out his left hand: a small stone, round and shiny, striated brown, black and white. "For you, Papa!"

Drogo took it, embracing his son. "It will be precious to me always."

**XI.**

Frodo stood at the door, hesitant. He'd never been allowed in Papa's study before. But Drogo smiled.

"Come in, Frodo." Pushing his chair away from his desk, he patted his knee. Frodo raced onto his father's lap, and gazed at him, curious.

"Frodo, you're seven now. Your Mama tells me you know your letters and numbers."

Frodo nodded.

"So it's time for you to come to me for lessons. We'll have them mornings between second breakfast and elevenses."

"Oh, Papa!" Frodo exclaimed in delight.

"We'll start with this book. Uncle Bilbo made it for me when I was your age..."

**XII.**

Bilbo ran his tongue over dry lips, drawing a deep breath. His arm firmly around young Frodo, who leaned into his side, dazed. Some had thought the lad too young and distraught to be at his parents‘ funeral, even drugged. But Bilbo wouldn’t have it. The child deserved to be there.

“I speak of my cousin, Drogo Baggins. Many knew him as quiet and solid, a decent, respectable hobbit who kept to himself. But I remember him as a wide-eyed youngster, eager for knowledge; I remember his love and devotion for his wife and child. I shall miss him always.”

**XIII.**

“Master Elrond called me ‘Frodo son of Drogo’, not ‘Frodo Baggins‘.” Frodo felt numb now that the Council had ended.

Bilbo nodded. “That’s the way of Elves and Men.”

“I can’t help but wonder what my father would have thought of all this. It is scarcely respectable hobbit behaviour.”

“I think,” said Bilbo, “that he would have been appalled at the danger you are in. But I also think he would have been very proud of you as well; you are doing what needs to be done after all. And a Baggins always does his duty.”

“I miss him.”

“I know.”

**XIV.**

Frodo walked the sea-strand, his toes feeling the softness of the Sun-warmed sand. The waves’ susurration and the gulls’ low cries were like Elven music.

Frodo had gone, as he often did, to the Tower where the Stone of Elostirion was kept. But now he had seen Merry and Pippin content in their retirement to Gondor, he did not think that he would go again. Soon enough, he and Sam would follow Bilbo.

Just then he spied something small and dark: a stone, round, striated with black, brown and white. He picked it up, smiling.

“I’ll see you soon, Papa."

 


	4. A Few Middle-earth Limericks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These limericks were written at different times. The first six were written in 2006 as a gift for **mumstheword** ; the remainder were written in 2011 for a limerick challenge at the LJ _great_tales_ community.

 

**Crickhollow**

There is a small house called Crickhollow   
Frodo bought with a tale none could swallow.  
He said he was broke,  
But they thought it a joke!  
No wonder his cousins did follow!

**Tom Bombadil**

There is an old fellow named Tom--  
Nobody knows where he’s from.  
His attitude’s mellow,  
His songs he does bellow,  
With many a hey-derry-dom!

**Strider**

There was a mysterious stranger  
Who spent all his time as a ranger.  
They called him Strider;  
He feared no Black Rider,  
And laughed in the face of all danger.

 **Gandalf at the Bridge**  

There once was a wizard named Gandalf.  
With a Balrog he managed a stand-off:  
Into the abyss  
They fell with a hiss,  
And he gave to the beast quite a send-off!

 **Merry and Pippin**  

There were two hobbits called Merry and Pip  
Who from Ent-draught did manage to sip.  
They grew overnight,  
Their pants were too tight,  
And no needles to sew up the rip!

 **The Chief**  

There was a hobbit named Lotho Pimple  
Whose ambitions were fairly simple:  
He just did aspire  
To run all the Shire,  
And have lasses to admire his dimple.

**Lobelia's Stand**

There once was an old hobbit dame--  
Lobelia S.-B. by name.  
She took her umbrella  
To a rather large fella,  
And thus won a good deal of fame!

~~~~~~~

 

**The Shire**

There is a place called the Shire.  
It's a wonderful spot to retire--  
The hills are as green  
as any you've seen,  
And scenery you've got to admire!

**Off to Find the Dragon**

Thirteen dwarves and a hobbit did slog  
Over mountain, through forest and fog;  
Dealt with goblins and trolls,  
Escaped Elf-king's holes--  
All to visit a dragon called Smaug.

**Bilbo**

There once was a hobbit named Baggins  
Who had some experience with dragons.  
He went for to roam,  
But when he came home,  
He set all the tongues to a-wagging.

 **Gollum**

There once was a critter called Sméagol,  
Who murdered his cousin called Déagol  
For a shiny new ring,  
A precious little thing.  
But homicide still is illegal.

**Shortcut**

A Took and a Brandybuck  
Were known for pushing their luck.  
It finally turned bad  
When they made Maggot mad,  
As into his crops they snuck.*

*Okay, I confess this last one is movie-verse!

 

 


	5. A Light Lunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> March 6, 2011 Back-to-Middle-earth Month Challenge:  
> Greed is good! Write a story or poem or create artwork that will prove or disprove this statement.
> 
> (A drabble-and-a-half; 150 words)

  
   
Pippin sighed in satisfaction, hefting the basket over his arm:  a nice bottle of perry*, chicken-and-mushroom pasties, cucumber sandwiches, carrots, apples, a goodly-sized wedge of golden yellow cheese, some of those lovely little sweet fried breads with the holes in them, crisp biscuits flavoured with honey and cinnamon, and a handful of hard peppermints, wrapped in twists of paper.  Whistling cheerily, he ambled off to the convenient hiding place he'd found beneath some shrubbery in a  corner of one of Rivendell's many gardens.  Frodo and Sam were taking their lunch with Bilbo in his quarters, while Merry, ensconced with the maps in Elrond's library had ignored his hints of hunger.  Ah well, it wasn't his fault that the Elven cooks thought he was picking up a picnic for all five of them.  He'd never actually said so!  Since he’d done just that before, they simply assumed…  
   
Sometimes greed was good.  
   
   
 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (*Perry is an alcoholic drink made of pears, as cider is made of apples.)


	6. The Last of the Nine Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My first attempt at a dribble.  
> This was written in 2006 for hobbit_ficathon on LJ. I had to incorporate the following elements:  
>  _a fire_  
>  _a king_  
>  _something remembered_  
>  _the number five_

**The Last of the Nine Remember**

The two elderly hobbits stood in front of the hearth  
drawing the welcome warmth into cold and aging bones,  
the fire dispelling the chill of white stone.  
A door opens, and a king enters,  
quietly placing a comforting hand on  
curly heads shot with grey.  
Dwarf, Elf, enter now,  
joining the others.  
They five  
Remember.

 


	7. For Arda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written in 2006, and posted on March 20 at the Stories of Arda archive to commemorate my second anniversary as a fanfic writer.  
> (A double inverted dribble)

  **For Arda**

There is a world where joy is sharp as swords ,  
And where pain is as beautiful as the sunrise.  
And where tears and laughter fall together mingled.  
In such a world we may celebrate  
the quality of pure mercy transformed  
Into a weapon so potent  
And so mysterious that  
Evil cannot stand,  
By endurance  
Overcome.

Arda.  
Where we  
Who are transfixed  
By its sheer beauty,  
May explore its outer boundaries  
Untrammeled by the mundane and bitter  
Cares of the life some call real.  
There we find nobility, joy, devotion and pity  
Honored and not mocked by the worldly and cynical.  
We who love her pay homage to the master storyteller.

 


	8. Tom Bombadil and the Four Travellers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My attempt at a bit of Bombadil-ish style poetry, as I try to fit it into the encounter the hobbits had with Tom. Several quotes from canon are incorporated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Marigold's Challenge #27, in 2006.
> 
> AUTHOR: Dreamflower  
> RATING: G  
> CATEGORY: General  
> SUMMARY: A well-known encounter, cast into verse  
> AUTHOR’S NOTES: [1] Marigold’s prompt included earth, air, fire and water, and time for a task. [2] Italics indicate quotations from The Fellowship of the Ring Book I, Chapters V, VI, and VII “The Old Forest”, “In the House of Tom Bombadil” and “Fog on the Barrow-Downs”.  
> DISCLAIMER: Middle-earth and all its peoples belong to the Tolkien Estate. I own none of them. Some of them, however, seem to own me.

 

**“Buckland has a number of traditional songs about the mysterious Tom Bombadil, who was rumored to dwell in the Old Forest by the Withywindle. This particular version did not become popular until the Fourth Age, and this is one that was widely believed to have been written by the Master of Buckland, Master Meriadoc the Magnificent, himself. There is no doubt that there are some gaffers still living, who can claim to have heard the song sung from the lips of Thain Peregrin I.” From Legends and Tales of Buckland and the Marish by Hibiscus Brandybuck-Gardner **

_Old Tom Bombadil was a merry fellow_  
 _Bright blue his jacket was, and his boots were yellow,_  
In the Old Forest up along the Withywindle,  
Under shade and sunlight, in the dell and dingle,  
By oak, ash and thorn, by earth, air, fire and water,  
Tom dwelt in joy with the River-woman’s daughter,  
In Tom’s house of stone, his pretty lady Goldberry,  
Fair as a lily bloom, and her heart was merry.

Tom went down to riverside, each year as days grew shorter  
There to fetch for his lady, lilies by the water  
Lilies white and leaves of green, he brought them for her pleasure,  
Time it was to do that task, to bring her such a treasure.

There he spoke with badger folk, and swans upon the water,  
Teasing the kingfishers there, spying on the otter,  
Plucking forth the flowers there, and as the day grew warmer  
He spied across the water then his old friend, a farmer.

“Hi-Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadil-o!  
News I have to bring to you, now, you merry fellow!  
Through the Old Forest now hobbits are a-wandering,  
Though what it all may mean, I’ve no time for pondering.”

“Why, old Maggot! This is a jolly meeting!  
Thanks for the news and for the cheery greeting.  
But I’ve no time for chatting, my task it cannot wait--  
For my fair Goldberry, Tom would not be late!”

Now Tom turned about, his arms with flowers laden,  
And turned his face to home, to the bank a-wading.  
About his ruddy cheeks a gentle wind was wafted.  
“Tell her I am coming” said he to the breeze with laughter,

Tom went to hurry on, lest the lilies they be wilting,  
When a fair voice he heard, a lovely and a lilting.

“Ho, now!” Tom cried, “Now here is one of the Fair Folk,  
Sitting up overhead, making free with branch of oak!  
Making the leaves to shake, and the acorns falling!  
Why have you come here, old Tom a-calling?”

“O Tom Bombadil! O oldest and fatherless!  
Iarwain Ben-adar, I bring news most grievous--  
Hobbits are fleeing, pursued by fell and fearsome foe,  
Wraiths are coming after them, bringing weal and woe!”

“Hey-ho!” said Bombadil, “thank you for your warning!  
Wraiths cannot come here, nor Tom’s lands be harming.  
Tom is the Master here, and their evil cannot enter.  
But now I must hurry on! My task will not be hindered!”

Tom hurried on, then, for flowers he was bringing  
To his lady Goldberry, and Tom he was a-singing:

_O slender as a willow-wand! O clearer than clear water!_  
 _O reed by the living pool! Fair River-daughter!_  
 _O spring-time and summer-time and spring again after!_  
 _O wind on the waterfall, and the leave’s laughter!”_

Through the forest Tom did haste along the waterside,  
Where the river reeds did sing and the haughty swans glide,  
Home to his Goldberry, she who waited there  
In his stone house under hill, in a dingle fair.  
On he went a-hurrying, past birch and beech and alder  
When a voice crying out did cause his steps to falter.

“Help! Help!” it called loud and clear and full of fright.  
Round the river bend Tom saw a hobbit come in sight.  
Fair he was for hobbit kind, his face was marred with fear,  
But Tom kept on a-singing, and his voice was firm and clear.

And now another hobbit came a-running, an outcry of his own,  
With their hands stretched out in plea, they made a grievous moan.

_“Whoa! Whoa! Steady there! Now my little fellows,_  
Where be you a-going to, puffing like a bellows?  
What’s the matter here then? Do you know who I am?”  
They stared at Tom astonished, their eyes with tears swam  
 _“Tell me what’s your trouble--don’t you crush my lilies!”_  
“My friends are caught in the willow-tree!”  
The hobbit cried. “Master Merry’s squeezed in a crack,”  
Said the other, and then quickly stepping back.

For there in the forest deep, close against the river-bank  
There grew an ancient Willow tree, its branches dark and lank.  
Old Man Willow, whose heart was black and rotten,  
Grew in his malice there, old insults not forgotten.  
Once he had been the master of the forest, thick and tangled,  
And he had sought to put his power forth, the legged ones to strangle.  
The trees were brought by his dark power to attack the Hedge,  
Moving close against it putting branches over the edge--  
Crowding up and growing up, ever and ever higher.  
Until hobbits put an end to it by bringing in a fire.

And now he had his victims, caught fast within his trap:  
A Took and a Brandybuck, lulled into a deadly nap--  
His singing had bespelled them, and they found an unwise pillow,  
Cradling their heads against the Old Man Willow.

“What?” shouted Bombadil, “Old Man Willow?”  
Angrily, Tom put his burden down, and began to bellow.  
 _“Old grey Willow-man! I’ll freeze his marrow cold if he don’t behave…  
I’ll sing his roots off. I’ll sing a wind up and blow leaf and branch away!”_

Bending down to the crack, old Tom began a-singing  
All within that hollow heart his voice it was ringing,  
Showing who was Master, he brought forth all his power  
And Old Man Willow before old Tom did cower.  
Tom smote the tree and said _“You let them out again,_  
Old Man Willow! What be you a thinking of? You should not be waking!”  
Tom, he was angry now, and his voice was quaking.  
 _“Eat earth! Dig deep! Drink water! Go to sleep!_  
Bombadil is talking!” and he seized the hobbit’s feet.

Old Man Willow gave a groan, a mighty crack a-splitting,  
And both hobbits shot forth, as though the tree was a-spitting.

The hobbits thanked old Tom, a-bowing and a-grinning.  
Tom laughed, said “Enough of jawing and a-chinning!  
Come home with me and have white bread and butter,  
Yellow cream and honeycomb and good things for supper!  
 _Time enough for questions around the supper table._  
You follow after me, as soon as you are able!”

The hobbits followed after Tom, puffing and a-blowing,  
But Tom hurried on before, never was he slowing.  
Tom had his task to do, and the flowers for to carry,  
All to take home to his beautiful Goldberry.  
But Tom led them on with his capering and singing--  
Though they lost sight of him, his voice was a-ringing!  
With many a “Hey now!” and a jolly “derry dol!”  
Tom led them on to a green and grassy knoll.

And so hungry and weary, to Old Tom’s house they came,  
And he met them there and greeted them, and called them by name.

And there they saw her, lovely as the heather,  
Fair as the lily-bloom, lively as the weather,  
Eyes as deep as pools and sparkling as the water,  
Fair Lady Goldberry, the River-woman’s daughter.

And Tom stood beside her, and together they were singing,  
There they welcomed their guests, in voices that were ringing:

_“Now let the song begin! Let us sing together  
Of sun, stars, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather.”_

And warm was the welcome, and glad was the greeting,  
And happy were the travellers to find a merry meeting.  
And danger stayed without the door while all within was cheer.  
Within was light and life and love, and naught was there to fear.  
Only food and song and laughter, on the hearth a cheery fire,  
And clear water and soft beds, for when they began to tire.

A night, a day, another night, with Bombadil they stayed,  
Until their errand beckoned them, and their fright did fade.  
With hearts all filled with gratitude they bid their hosts farewell--  
And yet ‘tis not the end, for there is something more to tell--  
How once again Tom Bombadil put them right when they’d gone wrong.  
But that is for another day and for yet another song!  
The Old Forest is a perilous place where hobbit-kind are strangers,  
But old Tom may there be found, to rescue them from dangers!

_Old Tom Bombadil, he is a merry fellow!_  
 _Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow!_  
 _None has ever caught him yet, for Tom he is the master;_  
 _His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster._

He leaps along the hill-tops, he looks into the earth  
Where badgers dwell. The creatures know his worth.  
He dances down the wooded path, the breeze carries his laughter,  
As home he goes to his own hearth and a cheery fire after.  
Tom bides in the forest yet, beside the flowing water,  
With his lovely Goldberry, the River-woman’s daughter.

**“There has been speculation that Master Meriadoc wrote a second song, or that there is a longer version of this one, relating events occurring after this concerning Tom Bombadil, and dealing with the legend of the barrow-wights and the Matter of the Ring. However, no written evidence of this has yet been discovered.”  
**

 


	9. On the Banks of the Brandywine (Berilac's Song)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cheery hobbit ballad about a lad and his lass; a traditional song of Buckland, and a favorite of Berilac Brandybuck.

**On the Banks of the Brandywine**  

When I was a lad so free  
I had no cares to worry me,  
Save what to drink and when to dine,  
On the banks of the Brandywine!  
On the banks of the Brandywine!  
Save what to drink and when to dine,  
On the banks of the Brandywine!

Once I spied a lass so fair,  
Plaiting violets in her hair,  
Her eyes so bright, her cheeks so fine,  
On the banks of the Brandywine!  
On the banks of the Brandywine!  
Her eyes so bright, her cheeks so fine,  
On the banks of the Brandywine!

I asked her could I sit a while,  
And she gave to me a winning smile,  
Her heart was true, her heart was kind,  
On the banks of the Brandywine!  
On the banks of the Brandywine!  
Her heart was true, her heart was kind,  
On the banks of the Brandywine!

I looked at her and then I said  
If she thought we two could wed,  
She told me that she would be mine,  
On the banks of the Brandywine!  
On the banks of the Brandywine!  
She told me that she would be mine,  
On the banks of the Brandywine!

We sealed our troth with a kiss!  
Her two lips, ah! They were bliss!  
I never knew true love I’d find,  
On the banks of the Brandywine!  
On the banks of the Brandywine!  
I never knew true love I’d find,  
On the banks of the Brandywine!

I asked her father for her hand,  
And on the shore we did stand--  
And I was hers and she was mine,  
On the banks of the Brandywine!  
On the banks of the Brandywine!  
And I was hers and she was mine,  
On the banks of the Brandywine!

And now we are a happy three,  
My sweet wife, our _fauntling_ and me  
In our smial with roses entwined,  
On the banks of the Brandywine!  
On the banks of the Brandywine!  
In our smial with roses entwined,  
On the banks of the Brandywine!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Faunt_ was a word coined by Tolkien in his _Letter #214_ to refer to a hobbit child of toddler age.


	10. A Premature Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Midsummer bonfire in the Year of the Troubles is not what the Shire is used to. (Written for Marigold's Challenge #46, in 2007.)

**A Premature Celebration**

_Midsummer, S.R. 1419_

The Men threw the small tables and chairs into the pile, and stood back, laughing.

"Krag!" called one, "that's the last of the rat-sized stuff!"

Krag grinned. "We'll give'em a Bonfire to remember!" He eyed the hobbits herded up, forced to watch. The Men had looted what remained of the inn, dragging out the furniture, and stealing what was left of the ale and spirits for themselves.

As the bonfire blazed, Krag lifted the bottle in his hand: "To good days, lads, and better days coming!"

Better days for them, thought old Tom Cotton, watching, means worse days for us.

 


	11. Bounty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regarding an important skill that every hobbit needs to learn. ( A Two-and-a-half-drabble set, originally written for rabidsamfan in 2008.)

 

**Bounty**  


“But Dad, why do we need to go looking for greens? There’s a-plenty in the garden!”

The Gaffer shook his head. “O’ course there’s plenty in the garden. But what if summat happened to the garden? You ask old Mr. Bilbo sometime about the Fell Winter, if you want to know why you should learn how to forage! Now, lookit here, my lad! What’s that?”

Sam bent down to examine the plant in question; he sniffed, and then pinched off a bit of one of the leaves. “Why--it’s onion, Dad!” He stood up and glanced around, hoping for something more…

****

After his exchange with Gollum, Sam sighed. He would have to keep the fire in sight, but plain boiled coney would barely fill the belly. He gave a sniff, looking about the edges of the clearing--there was a clean, green smell here, that spoke of a bounty of forage.

Aha! Wild garlic. And a little searching brought him wild thyme as well as a handy bay-tree, though no sage. But there was rampion, and wild carrot--though the roots of both might be a bit woody--and young dandelion, rosemary…

Well, there’d be summat more than coney in the stew now.

****

Frodo-lad hurried to keep up with his father’s stride. It was an early spring day, and he wondered why they were not in the garden. There was a mort of work to be done this time of year. “But Sam-dad! Why do we need to go looking for greens?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This was inspired by the book [The Forager's Harvest: A Guide to Identifying, Harvesting, and Preparing Edible Wild Plants by Samuel Thayer.](http://www.amazon.com/The-Foragers-Harvest-Identifying-Harvesting/dp/0976626608)
> 
> Did you know that what we call Queen Anne's Lace is actually wild carrot?


	12. The Hobbit Tea Song (Tea, Glorious Tea)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A paean to tea: a hobbit song in praise of their favorite meal. A filk, sung to the tune of Flander's and Swann's "The Hippopotamus Song (Mud, Glorious Mud)".

 

**THE HOBBIT'S TEA SONG (TEA, GLORIOUS TEA)**

Tea, tea, glorious tea!  
Come put your feet up and have some with me!  
Some bread and some butter  
‘Twixt lunchtime and supper  
There’s naught like a cuppa  
Tea, glorious tea!

Tea, tea, glorious tea!  
Now won’t you have a nice sitdown with me?  
Just a wee little drop?  
Oh, the kettle is hot  
And I have a full pot  
Of tea, glorious tea!

Tea, tea, glorious tea!  
I know you’re longing to gossip with me!  
I’ve managed to bake  
Some biscuits and cake.  
Oh come and partake  
Of tea, glorious tea!*

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally appeared in my story "Supper's Over, Breakfast's Cooking"


	13. In Darkness Buried Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frodo in the Tower of Cirith Ungol. (A double drabble)

  **In Darkness Buried Deep**

  
Could it really be over?

Frodo had not thought it would end this way. He had not expected to survive his mission. It had been long since he thought he might live, perhaps even in Rivendell he had begun to know his life was forfeit to the Ring.

But this? Captivity! The Ring gone? Gone to the Enemy! All was despair: no hope for anyone else, much less himself.

It was torment realising the hated trinket no longer hung around his neck. For so long, his life had been nothing except the journey and the Ring. How hard it had become to keep it quiet! He should feel relieved it was no longer his burden, but the sense of failure ran deep. All was lost! His cousins, the Fellowship, the Shire, Sam…

Oh, Sam! The last thing he heard before he had lost all awareness was Sam weeping. Undoubtedly he was dead or being tormented elsewhere in this dreadful place.

But what was that sound? Sam’s voice singing? No, he must have gone mad to imagine Sam singing. “Oh, Sam!” He had not meant to cry aloud.

_“Ho la! You up there, you dunghill rat! Stop your squeaking...”_

 


	14. Just Looking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Originally written in 2009 for the LJ Wee Hobbits community.)  
> Rating: G  
> Summary: Frodo fixes wee!Pippin's boo-boo, and gives him a little comfort (a tribble--300 words)

 

  
 **Just Looking**

“Pippin. What are you doing?”

The _faunt_ gave a guilty start at the sound of Frodo’s voice, and jumped down from his precarious perch on the second shelf of the bookcase. He stared at Frodo out of wide eyes and bit his lower lip.

“Nothing.” He stuck his index finger in his mouth.

Frodo arched an eyebrow. Pippin was supposed to be in his parents’ guest room taking a nap. The rest of the family was in the parlour talking to Bilbo, and Frodo had gone to check on his little cousin, only to find him in Bilbo’s study instead.

“Nothing?” Frodo asked.

The little one gave a sniff, and held up the finger. “Just looking. But I hurt me.”

Frodo was instantly all concern. In a few strides, he was at Pippin’s side.

“Let me see! Oh, it’s only a nasty splinter.” He took Pippin up, and crossed to sit in Bilbo’s comfortable old armchair with the child in his lap. He took Pippin’s chubby little finger, and squeezed it lightly, and then quickly nipped the splinter between his fingers and drew it out. Then he held up the finger to his lips and gave it a kiss. “There, now is it all better?”

Pippin gave a nod. “Thank you, Frodo.” He snuggled more closely into his older cousin’s comforting arms. “I was looking for stories.”

Frodo smiled. Suddenly, he had the feeling that this one was always going to be looking for stories. “Well, perhaps you’ve found one after all, Pip. Why don’t I tell you one?”

Pippin grinned. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, let’s see. Ah, I know! _Once there were two little hobbits named Tip and Tulip. They were brother and sister, and they lived in a cozy little smial with their mama and their papa and their auntie…_

 


	15. Kindling Courage (the Finding Courage remix)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“The widest was more than seven feet across, and it was long before Pippin could summon enough courage to leap over the dreadful gap.” (FOTR, Book II, Chapter IV, “A Journey in the Dark”)"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written in 2007 for the "Remix the Drabble" community on LiveJournal. Each participant was assigned another author, and was to write a drabble based on one of theirs. 
> 
> (You might want to read the original drabble first: [Finding Courage" by Dana](http://www.lotrgfic.com/viewstory.php?sid=3031&chapter=1).)

**Kindling Courage (The Finding Courage Remix)**

Holding his staff high, Gandalf looks beyond the reach of its pale glow, and at the blackness across the abyss. Only Legolas and Aragorn remain with Pippin on the other side. In the purple shadows, the hobbit’s face is white, his eyes glitter like stars. The wizard looks at the wide gap, hears the rushing water below. It is a terrifying leap for the youngest hobbit, but it is one he must take, for there is no going back. Bending his thought to Narya, and his heart to Pippin, he sees the courage kindle as the hobbit makes the leap.

 


	16. Remembering Frodo's Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (In Minas Tirith, Pippin observes Frodo and remembers.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a birthday dribble for Mews1945 written in 2009, inspired by the first story of hers that I read, ["In Frodo's Hands"](http://www.west-of-the-moon.net/servlet/ReadGenStory?storyID=497):

  

**Remembering Frodo's Hands**

I watch him sleep, now, exhausted by all the celebrations.  
Sam, protective as ever, slumbers soundly by his side.  
Merry has gone to protect someone else dear,  
Théoden's place of rest in the hallows.  
So now I watch my Frodo,  
tracing the lines of sorrow;  
remembering his gentle hands  
guiding my own  
childish ones  
carefully.

 


	17. Bregalad Keeps Watch Over Merry and Pippin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the Ent-moot, Bregalad, Quickbeam, watches over Merry and Pippin and mourns the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Written in 2009 for the LOTR GenFic Comm's "Out on a Limb" challenge.)
> 
>  
> 
>  **Theme:** "Out on a limb"  
>  **Elements:** A type of tree: rowan  
>  **Author's Notes:**  
>  The information found [**here**](http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/poems/440.html) was invaluable to me in both inspiration and information. It's part of an online poetry anthology by [**The Wondering Minstrels**](http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/index.html). Several of JRRT's poems are to be found there.  
>  **Word Count:** 300 ( a "tribble" or triple drabble )

 

 _O Orofarnë, Lassemista, Carnimírië!_  
 _O rowan fair, upon your hair how white the blossom lay!_  
 _O rowan mine, I saw you shine upon a summer's day,_  
 _Your rind so bright, your leaves so light, your voice so cool and soft_ :  
 _Upon your head how golden-red the crown you bore aloft!_  
 _O rowan dead, upon your head your hair is dry and grey;_  
 _Your crown is spilled, your voice is stilled for ever and a day._  
 _O Orofarnë, Lassemista, Carnimírië!_  
 _(LotR: The Two Towers, Book III, Chapter IV, "Treebeard")_

~~~~~~~

_O Orofarnë, Lassemista, Carnimírië!_

I had heard the voice of the smaller hobbit softly singing along with me under his breath. But now he too snores softly alongside his elder kinsman. What a wonder they are to me! I have not seen a new thing since I was very young and green. So small they are, but their hearts are large. Their eyes are filled with wonder and with questions, and their tongues speed along hastily and as pleasantly as bird song. They are so trusting in us, a people altogether strange to them and so much larger. It will be an honour to aid these small people in their trouble.

I know the other Ents consider me even hastier than usual in this matter; why should we go out on a limb to help those who have never been of any help to us? _bararumambarumbara-hoom-ha-harba-hrum_ -loving Saruman in his cold stone tower, with his axe wielding orcs and his fires and steams, is our enemy, and I say that the enemies of my enemy are my friends. If no others will help, I will go with them myself alone. It is better to die trying than to fade away or to take root in the deep places of the forest, hiding from the truth.

Oh my home! The leaves a soft silver ceiling as grey as morning rain, the berries in autumn red as jewels. There against the mountainside, I had joy in the company of my rowans. They had come to have voices, perhaps in time they would have wakened for me. I would have been no longer alone.

I would I had tears, such as Men and Elves may shed in their pain and sorrow.

But I have only anger and song!

_O Orofarnë, Lassemista, Carnimírië!_


	18. Fealty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Bree, Strider considers the hobbits he has befriended. A drabble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Written in 2009 for Claudia603's birthday.)

 

  **Fealty**

I sit by the door, smoking, listening to their soft breathing. There will be danger tonight, but I think we shall be safe. Why did I do it? What impulse moved my heart? I could have aided them without an oath. I know my destiny-- if I succeed, I will owe fealty to no one. Yet I offered it to one with no rank: feckless, careless, ignorant of the world. _"If by life or death I can save you, I will."_ Now I am bound to him by oath. Yet I do not regret it. It was meant to be.

 


	19. Getting Reaquainted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Rivendell, Bilbo gets reaquainted with four young hobbits he'd never thought to see again. (Four double-drabbles-- 800 words.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written in 2009.

 

**Getting Reacquainted**

Bilbo kept a gentle hold on the cold white hand as he sat next to Frodo, leaning in exhaustion against the pillows. He glanced at the foot of the large bed, where an exhausted Samwise had fallen asleep at his Master's feet, and then turned to look at Frodo's face, as pale and still as if carved of marble. He felt a wave of fear and grief well up, and forced it down-- he'd not give up hope yet. But he could not tamp down the guilt. What a sorry inheritance he had left to the best hobbit in the Shire! That wretched Ring!

He could no longer hold back his tears. "Oh, my Frodo!" he sobbed.

A large and gentle hand descended on his shoulder. "Be of hope, my friend. We shall do our best for your child."

It was only his long-ingrained habit, that of hobbits to be precise about relationships, that led him to protest. "He's not..."

"He is. He is not the son of your body, but he is your child. By blood and by love, he _is_ your son."

Bilbo looked up at Elrond, and suddenly realised that he of all people, would understand. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bilbo nearly tripped over Meriadoc as he left the room. Merry sprang up instantly.

"Is there news?" His voice was steady, but Bilbo saw panic in the grey eyes, red-rimmed and shadowed.

"No, Merry-lad. I'm sorry; nothing's changed; Elrond sent me to rest."

Merry took in a deep breath, and heaved it out, shuddering. "I'm sorry, Bilbo. I don't know what to do-- I sent Pippin to rest also, but I..." He leaned against the wall, shaking his head in confusion. "I'm sorry Bilbo. I couldn't keep him safe." His voice fell to a whisper.

Bilbo drew him into an embrace. "Ah, Merry!" He didn't say more than that, but remembered the last time he'd seen Merry-- a lanky teen on the cusp of tweenhood, filled with Tookish mischief and Brandybuck determination and utter devotion to Frodo.

He knew, though he was sure Merry did not realise he knew, how hurt he had been when Bilbo had taken Frodo away to Hobbiton to live. Bilbo had not been surprised by Merry's presence in Rivendell. He remembered a letter in a childish scrawl. _"Take good care of my Frodo, or give him back to me."_

"Ah, Merry, it's not your fault."

  
~~~~~~~~~

What a difference a day makes! They woke to news that Frodo was out of danger, that dreadful shard removed. They'd been allowed to see him briefly: his face faintly flushed with color, his breathing steady. He would wake sometime this day.

The other hobbits, Bilbo included, had been ordered to their own rest. Bilbo was restless, and made his way to the dining hall, looking for food and company.

He heard the merry sound of Elven laughter, and a familiar Tookish voice. "and we could still hear Lotho's shouting as he banged and kicked the door to the privy. He never did find out who'd jammed the door."

Clearly Pippin had been unable to sleep as well. He sat amid a group of Elves, who were plying him with food and drink, regaling them with tales of childhood mischief. Bilbo chuckled. Pippin had been so young when he left, it seemed strange to see him now, a tween on the cusp of adulthood. He was as full of joy and energy as ever. Yet he had managed to bear his part in getting here, through fear and danger.

Bilbo felt a swell of Tookish pride in his young cousin.

  
~~~~~~~~

Now the Council had ended. Bilbo watched as Elrond, Aragorn and Gandalf led Frodo off. It was clear that this time, Sam wouldn't be able to slip along unobserved. He studied Sam's face, noted the anxiety there as Frodo went out of his sight. Bilbo nodded. It was only right and fair that Sam be included in this mission of Frodo's. Bilbo trusted Aragorn and Gandalf to care for Frodo, and not just because he was carrying-- It. But they weren't hobbits.

Bilbo remembered the little lad with sandy curls, who listened with rapt attention to tales of Elves. In this young hobbit, he could still see traces of that child. He remembered Sam's determination and intelligence in learning, once Bilbo had persuaded the Gaffer to allow it. He had grown up as sturdy and reliable as Bilbo had always suspected, but that spark of interest in things beyond the common hobbit's ken still glittered in the brown eyes.

He stood and put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

Sam gave a start. "Mr. Bilbo, sir! I hope you don't think I overstepped my place, listening in on all this?"

"Your place? Your place, as ever, is at Frodo's side, Sam."

 

 


	20. The Pale Enchanted Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bilbo returned from his Adventure, he had to decide what to do with that Dragon gold...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the LJ comm Waymeet's "Five Things Challenge" in 2010.  
> Wordcount: 1,000 (five double drabbles)  
> Characters: Bilbo, other canon hobbits  
> Prompt: Five things Bilbo did with the treasure he brought home from his Adventure...

**The Pale Enchanted Gold**

_1\. S.R. 1342_

"That's the last of it, then, Uncle Bingo?"

Bingo Baggins nodded curtly to his nephew. "Yes, Bilbo. I don't care for how this business was carried out. I think your father would have been disappointed."

Bilbo took a pouch out of his pocket, and slid it across the desk. "I don't think I would have been the one to disappoint, if I may be honest, Uncle Bingo. Uncle Longo resented my father for many years. He passed that on to his son Otho. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so impulsive when I left last year, but Uncle Longo and Cousin Otho shouldn't have been so quick to declare me dead."

Bingo took up the pouch, and emptied it, eyes widening in surprise. He counted out several of the coins, putting them in a separate pile. The silence stretched. Finally, he said "This is far too much to cover your things that I purchased back from Longo and his family." He shoved the other pile back.

Bilbo shook his head. "I may be Family Head, Uncle Bingo, but I believe that the other Bagginses trust you more. Put the rest of it to good use for the benefit of the Family."

  
 _2\. S.R. 1351_

"Thank you for coming, Mr. Grubb."

"It is always a pleasure to do business for you, Mr. Baggins."

Bilbo led the lawyer into his study, where tea awaited.

"My condolences on the death of your Uncle Longo, Mr. Baggins."

"It's no secret that my Uncle and I didn't get along, Mr. Grubb, though it is always sad to lose family. It is on that account that I have summoned you. I have heard some disturbing things about my cousin Otho since his father died."

Mr. Grubb inclined his head in response. "Your cousin has been making investments."

"I'm talking about a rumour I've heard concerning a property in Bywater. He wishes to buy the farm the Cotton family is leasing. If he does so, it will go hard for them, for he has other tenants in mind."

"What do you wish to do about it, Mr. Baggins?"

"I'd like you to arrange for the Cottons to purchase that farm themselves." He reached into a drawer of his desk and lifted out a small bag that seemed heavy for its size. It gave a satisfying "clink" when he put it down. "I do not wish to appear in the matter myself."

  
 _3\. S.R. 1362_

  
Bilbo bid good-afternoon to the Widow Goodchild as she showed him into Number 3 Bagshot Row. She was there for propriety's sake as the young couple sat for their gifts. Bilbo found himself amused as she babbled at him, welcoming him. Hamfast and Bell sat stiffly on either side of the hearth to receive their wedding gifts before the wedding, as was only proper.

"M-Mr. Bilbo!" Hamfast stammered and rose. "I didn't expect to see you here!"

"I couldn't let my gardener wed without a gift, after all, Master Hamfast!"

"But-- you could've sent it down the Hill by post!"

Bilbo chuckled. "And miss a chance to meet the bride?" He smiled at Bell. She wasn't a beauty, but she handsome. She returned his smile, her face transformed. It was easy to see why Hamfast had been smitten with her.

Bilbo reached into his pocket, and took out a pouch. It was heavier than its size would indicate. Bell stood up and came to his side. Their eyes grew huge as they opened it.

Hamfast's mouth opened, then shut. A hobbit never refuses a gift. But--gold!

Bilbo smiled. It was little enough, but it would give them a good start.

  
 _4\. S.R. 1392_

  
It had been a long night. Awakened before dawn by the clanging of the Shirriff's bell, Bilbo and Frodo had worked through the bitter cold, passing buckets with the other hobbits, as they sought to douse the blazing Number 5 Bagshot Row. Now all was embers, smoke and ash. Mrs. Rumble's sobbing in the embrace of Bell Gamgee was the only sound, as the Sun broke low through a grey sky.

Bilbo looked at Frodo's ashen face, and placed an arm about his shoulders. This was hard for Frodo, but he was very proud of the way that the lad had kept his head, and worked alongside the adults without flagging.

The Shirriff approached him. "Seems Mr. Rumble fell asleep with his pipe a-burning, Mr. Bilbo. 'Twas good fortune his missus had gone down the Hill to help her neice with the new babe. I don't rightly know as what she'll do now, with him gone."

It was hard. The Rumbles had never been blessed with children, and now she was a widow alone in the world.

Bilbo nodded, as he recalled the strongbox at Bag End, and the dwindling legacy of Smaug.

"She will not be left in want."

  
 _5\. S.R. 1419_

  
Bilbo looked at it: it was the last of the dragon treasure. He'd taken what was left with him when he left Bag End to Frodo. Frodo had plenty of wealth without it, from the Baggins investments and the inheritances of his own parents. Aside from what he'd used to set his affairs back in order when he returned to the Shire, Bilbo had never spent it on himself. It was stolen gold, brooded on by a dragon. It seemed to him the way to lift the curse was to share it freely. He'd used it to buy gifts, or as a gift when coin would be more useful than a trinket. He'd used it to help those who had misfortune befall them. And when time came for him to leave the Shire, he'd taken it along for expenses. He'd used far less of it than he'd thought he would need, and now, he would have no more expenses here in Rivendell.

The younger hobbits thought he had not understood their tales of what had happened, but he'd understood enough. Enough to know to whom he owed Frodo's life.

"Mr. Bilbo, Mr. Frodo said as you wanted to see me...

 

 


	21. Surprise Visit, S.R. 1349

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of _The Hobbit_ , Balin (along with Gandalf) visited Bilbo. What did the old friends think of one another after all that time? (A two-drabble set.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A pair of drabbles, written for the 2010 Silmarillion Writer's Guild's "Back to Middle-earth Month" Week Three Challenge.  
>  **Challenge:** _What are defining traits in a friend? Intelligence? Good humor? Integrity? Write a story, poem or create an artwork where a new friendship is built or old friends meet after a long time._

   
   
 **Surprise Visit, S.R. 1349**

  
Balin stood outside the round green door with Gandalf. Bilbo's expression when he saw them standing there was delighful. Surprise, wonder, joy at seeing them were all mirrored on his honest round face. Balin smiled at the sight of the colourful waistcoat with its bright golden buttons-- much rounder than last he had seen it. Clearly Bilbo had prospered in the last seven years.

"Come in! Welcome!" Bilbo gestured them, took Gandalf's hat, Balin's scarlet hood. How different than that day they had first met, when Bilbo Baggins' only expression had been consternation.

What a difference sharing an adventure made!

~~~~~~~

Bilbo stared at the two on his doorstep-- Gandalf! and Balin! What a wonderful surprise to see them again! He smiled in delight: Gandalf, not changed at all; Balin's beard longer and whiter, his scarlet hood now trimmed with sable, his belt of golden plaques set with gems of every hue-- clearly Balin had prospered under the Mountain.

"Come in! Welcome!" Bilbo took Gandalf's hat and Balin's hood, hanging them by the door. How glad he was to see them! He remembered that day he'd met the Dwarf; how flustered he'd been.

What a difference sharing an adventure made!  
   
 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From _The Hobbit, Chapter XIX, "The Last Stage":_
> 
>  
> 
> _"Come in! Come in!" said Bilbo, and soon they were settled in chairs by the fire. If Balin noticed that Mr. Baggins' waistcoat was more extensive (and had real gold buttons), Bilbo also noticed that Balin's beard was several inches longer and his jewelled belt of great magnificence._


	22. There, And Back Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Written in 2010 for the "Pairs" Drabble challenge, in which the prompt was a pair of opposite words.)  
>  **Rating:** G  
>  **Theme:** Pairs (drabbles)  
>  **Elements:** beginning, end  
>  **Summary:** Bilbo ponders Adventure.  
>  **Word Count:** 100

 

**There and Back Again**

  
In the beginning, Adventure didn’t seem so bad. Riding his sturdy little pony behind the Dwarves and Gandalf, he enjoyed the unfamiliar hillsides and farms, sunshine, birdsong, the freshening breeze of early spring, and a merry old inn.

Then came the trolls.

He put that behind him in Rivendell, but goblins, Gollum, wolves, spiders --most of all, the Dragon and the battle afterward made him eager to see home once more.

Then he returned to the Shire. Telling of his time away, he found, painted a brighter picture with his words. Adventure didn’t seem so bad at journey’s end.

 


	23. Grey Havens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Watching the Ringbearer's ship sail away... (A dribble.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Written in 2011 for the **great_tales** 55 word challenge.)  
>  Character(s): Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took  
> Warnings: angst  
> Word Count: 55  
> Author's Notes: This is a dribble. As soon as I saw the 55 word count in the challenge, I thought "Dribble!" A dribble is a form of fic poetry: the first line contains ten words; each succeeding line has one word fewer, down to the last line of one word. Total word count on a dribble is exactly 55 words

 

 **Grey Havens**  

There is a reason they call it the Sundering Sea.  
Standing at the quay, heart cords are stretching, breaking—  
To  sounds of surf and cry of gulls,  
As sails vanish into a westering sun  
Beneath the cold stars of heaven.  
One last smile to remember,  
One last kiss farewell.  
Sam, Merry, Pippin  
Turn now,  
Homeward.

 


	24. Composition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his way home from Adventure, Bilbo tries to distract himself with a bit of versifying…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Written in 2011 for the [**_great_tales_**](http://community.livejournal.com/great_tales/) _55 word challenge)_
> 
>  **Fandom:** _The Hobbit  
> _ **Character(s):** Bilbo Baggins  
>  **Word Count:** 55  
>  **Author's Notes:** Another dribble. I could not resist.  I am imagining Bilbo sitting in the dark listening to Gandalf snore and thinking it is taking entirely too long to get home.  The parts in italics are from _"Upon the Hearth the Fire is Red"_ , from FotR, Book I, Chapter III, "Three's Company".

 

**Composition**

_Upon the hearth the fire is_ warm…no, not right.  
 _The fire is red …_    that will do,  I’m sure.  
Red, head, dead.  No, no don’t think that!  
Red, lead, bed. Of course that’s it!  
A bed, clean, soft and dry…  
 _beneath the roof,_ so safe…  
Wish I was there,  
so I do…  
Bag End,  
home…

 


	25. Upwind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas is very pleased to find Merry and Pippin at Isengard. Not so pleased they found something else. (A drabble.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Written in 2011 for **great_tales** )  
>  **Rating:** G  
>  **Fandom:** The Lord of the Rings  
>  **Character(s):** Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli, Merry, and Pippin  
>  **Author's Notes:** Legolas’ POV in the chapter “Flotsam and Jetsom” in _The Two Towers_.

 

 

**Upwind**

Legolas exchanged a look of amusement with his fellow hunters Aragorn and Gimli. The three of them had chased their quarry across many leagues, intent on rescuing them, only to find that Merry and Pippin not only managed to rescue themselves, but found allies who managed to defeat the traitor Saruman. Now they played host, chattering away, offering food and drink and...pipe-weed? He listened in dismay to talk of Longbottom Leaf and the sharing of pipes. _”Well, I am going back into the open air, to see what the wind and sky are doing!”_ And, he hoped, stand upwind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quotation in italics is from TTT, Chapter IX, "Flotsam and Jetsam".


End file.
